


Of Meddlers and Morons

by SugarCookieBear



Series: Mermaid Purses [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Fluff, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Merperson Keith (Voltron), Merperson Lance (Voltron), Merperson Matt Holt, Merperson Pidge | Katie Holt, Sick of writing tags smh, autistic author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:28:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarCookieBear/pseuds/SugarCookieBear
Summary: Just then, Lance hears something unfamiliar. Startled, his dorsal spines flares. He could hear voices. Wait. Was he seriously getting unnerved by talking?Has he been away from his pod so long that the sound of voices scares him?The fourth and maybe last installment of “Mermaid Purses”
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Mermaid Purses [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1904443
Comments: 13
Kudos: 174





	Of Meddlers and Morons

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the delay, I’m working on stuff. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit:  
> I originally published this on my birthday (9/14) so this was sort of a reverse birthday present I guess?

  
Days stretch for miles, and other times seconds. Lance doesn’t know how long it’s been. Time mixes into an indecipherable mush of nothingness.

The predator—Keith—will soon return, offer food, typically something big, like a tuna. He’ll get upset when Lance doesn’t eat, fuss over him a bit, stay for a while, leave, and then come back with something else. It’s a vicious cycle. 

Well at least the boy had the decency to not eat other mer in front of him.

Lance doesn’t even take time to enjoy the fact he’s being fussed over, because the fusser was a predator. Not to mention he had wanted to be courted, not to be accidentally bonded and then held hostage by his mate! 

Keith, to his credit, seemed to be trying his best, bringing him food, pretty shells, and trying to talk to him. Lance wasn’t having it though. 

He knew predator-boy only cared because he was pregnant. As soon as Lance popped out the eggs, mullet would be outtie. That’s how predators worked, right?

Well, not for much longer, he hoped. Lance was going to abort the clutch. He almost whimpers at the idea, but quickly crushes the lingering feeling of guilt and longing. His pups will grow up murderers here, he tells himself. His mate is a predator. This is no place for children.

Lance has been trying to plot his escape for days(?). There was major issues though, chief among them being Lance’s mate. Keith has been very insistent about keeping him in the den.

He  could sneak out when the predator wasn’t there, but, Lance doesn’t really know where the den is. Thus, he needs time to figure out his positioning. But, without knowing Keith’s schedule, he doesn’t know when he might get the opportunity.

Keith doesn’t have any particular rhythm for hunting; or at least one he could discern. The predator leaves at random intervals, and returns with even randomer catches. There was—

Just then, Lance hears something unfamiliar. Startled, his dorsal spines flares. He could hear voices. Wait. Was he seriously getting unnerved by talking?

Has he been away from his pod so long that the sound of voices scares him? Hold up. One of the voices is familiar. Is that Keith? Who are the others then? He pauses, trying to listen in.

Keith sounds livid from a distance. He can only make out a few words at first: den, make, anger- or is it angry? He isn’t sure. The speakers are getting closer.

“It’s fine, Katie....understand...territory,” a male goes. Whose Katie?

“Yer so loud!” Keith hisses. (Lance has to strain to hear this bit.) No, he’s not angry, Lance realizes. Now that he can hear him more clearly, he can assess that Keith is annoyed.

Lance flattens himself against the wall of the cave, hoping to Dios that his blue scales don’t give him away.

“It’s so dark in here.”

“What is that?!” Keith sounded pissed.

A flash of bright light is shining in his face. So. Bright. Lance covers his face.

“Holy carp, this place is huge!”

“Matt, you quiznacking idiot. Turn the damn thing away from his face. You’re shining it directly into his eyes.”

“Shit. Sorry.”

Cautiously, Lance peeks. Much better.

Two orange haired creatures are staring at him, curiously. The taller one is holding a strange black box with a crystal in it. Keith is standing behind them—arms crossed and glowering—looking like he wanted to eat them.

Lance’s eyes widened, blurting out: “You’re a squid! I’ve never seen a squid with its beak on the side of its head.” He says it in awe—voice rusty from disuse.

Keith’s eyes light up. Lance ignores it.

“They’re oct-o-pusses.” Keith corrects, dropping his pout.

“No, No I am not. Still not an octopus.” Argues the shorter one.

The taller one turns to Lance “Er-well, that’s probably because there aren’t any known squids with beaks on their sides. We’re cephalomorph mers.” He says.

“A cephalomorph?”

“Yup.” the taller one chimes in, “I’m Matt by the way, and this is—“

“I can introduce myself, Matthew.” The shorter one cuts in.

Matt shuts up.

“My name is Pidge, and this is my idiot older brother, Matt.”

“Hey!” Said Matt.

“The la’er ‘o which came uninvited.” Keith mutters.

Ignoring him, Pidge swims over to Lance, grabbing his arm. The boy wraps a tentacle around it, examining it.

“I’ve never seen this type of morph before. Blue tang, maybe?” Pidge said turning to Matt for confirmation.

His brother shakes his head, “Tail is wrong.” The younger frowns, continuing to look at his arm.

“The fish?!” Lance said, kind of offended.

“Ya’know, your morph.” Matt said. “He looks like a Betta of some kind.”

“A betta mer? Aren’t they migrational?”

“Morph??” Lance asked.

“Morph is what your tail resembles. It shows your subspecies, and your lifestyle. Of course, most mer have different lifestyles than their fishy counterparts. Most predators choose their mates based on it, so their tails stay the same. I assumed prey did the same... but—“

That’s ridiculous. “Of course not! We don’t—at least my pod doesn’t. My best friend, Hunk, and older brother, Marco, have yellow tails—Marco’s is duller though, and he has spots. My other older brother, Luis is blue with black stripes, and his children are both red. My older sister, Veronica is silver, and my oldest sister Rachel has a black tail. My parents look different too...” He trails off, embarrassed by his rant.

“Oh, wow” Matt says, blinking a bit.

“Woah! Hey Matt, look at this! The webbing on his hands match his head frills!” Pidge says.

Keith growls. “Pidge.”

Pidge rolled his eyes releasing the arm. “Fine, fine.” He sighs dramatically. “Now were you going to tell him?”

Keith turns red. “Er-“

“That’s what I thought.”

“Sis, don’t provoke him.“ came Matt.

“I thought Pidge was a boy though?” Lance said confused.

“I’m a girl,” Pidge informs.

“She’s a girl.” Matt confirms.

“I cen speak cen speak fer myself.” Keith says.

“Look: I’m not good with words. I, well, my species don’t mate for life. But, yuh do.”

“Smooth,” Pidge said sarcastically.

Lance tilts his head in confusion.

“I’m tryin’ my best, okay?!” He says angrily to Pidge. Keith turns back to him. “Um—I want to be yer life mate.”

Lance’s eyes widened a bit.

“Shiro said Makomorph fathers protect the mama while they’re pregnant so they don’t get hurt. The mama stays in the den, ‘an the pa brings ‘em food. They guard ther mate ‘til they lay eggs four months later.” He runs a clawed hand through his hair.

Lance can sort of see where this is going.

“I-I was tryin’ ta do that, but you ain’t a Mako. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad...” Keith takes a big breath, looking at him in the eyes. His face is filled with a steely eyed determination. “If yah let me, I’ll take care’a you. I-I’ll be the best mate I can. You cen visit yer family ‘n everything!”

“Okay.”

Keith looks surprised. “Just like that?”

Lance nods. “Sure why not?” His brow furrows, as he realizes. “Wait—what do you mean four months?”


End file.
